


knowing that we feel the same without saying

by liquidsky



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 08:51:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18246494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidsky/pseuds/liquidsky
Summary: In which childhood friends Dan and Phil tell each other things they already knew.





	knowing that we feel the same without saying

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday, monica, i love you and couldn't possibly have asked for a better person to share the best day of my life with. i'm endlessly thankful for your friendship and wish you all the best today and always.

The night Dan stumbles into Phil's bedroom through the window and nearly brains himself in one of Phil's bigger Buffy figurines, it's nearing 3 a.m and Phil's lying in bed with both eyes open and too many thoughts in his head. 

Here's the thing he can't escape: he'd said yes. He knew it was coming, too, in the slow way Emma's eyes followed him around around the school every day and the blush on her cheeks when he returned her smiles and the funny little way her voice kept catching when he started conversation. They were friends—or maybe not _friends_ exactly, but friendly enough to feel like more than classmates, and so he purposefully ignored all the signs and kept talking to her. Big mistake, in retrospect. Thinking back to it, he can understand how it could've come across as if he was interested. Just a little bit. 

He could've been, too, if they were suddenly transported to a universe in which there was no Dan and Phil had no memory of his long limbs and embarrassing taste in shoes. The defining aspect of this line of thought, though, is that it doesn't work – Phil has no interest in any version of the universe that doesn't involve Dan because, frankly, what would be the point? 

Dan sometimes feels like an extension of Phil's own self, and even if he didn't, he's still Phil's best friend. The one person in all the 7 billion people currently breathing and existing on earth that Phil can't live without – and he _knows_ this all too well, too, remembering the one summer they spent apart back in 2003 in which Phil very nearly died (of causes very much unrelated to Dan, fine, but he still stands by the argument that he wouldn't have _tried_ to climb the camp's highest tree had Dan been there to entertain him).

See, Dan's his _best friend_ , his person, the one whose dimples Phil thinks of before falling asleep, present in all his worthwhile tales of bravery and daring, the hand he thinks about holding when they're sitting in the dark at the movie theater and sharing one single bowl of popcorn. He knows him, better than he knows himself, every little detail from the shape of his toes to the last curl of his hair, and Dan takes far too much space in his brain for Phil to entertain anyone else. He doesn't need to, doesn't _have_ to, but he still said yes. 

He can't figure out why, which is to say that he absolutely can and is well aware that the only person to blame is himself and his paralysing fear of confrontation. Dan, who shares Phil's introverted nature but will occasionally shake whoever pisses him off by the metaphorical balls, keeps telling him that he needs to get over that, and it's never been more clear than today. He has a date. A _date_ , in two days he's going to meet Emma at a cafe and sit there and talk and she will most likely try to kiss him and he has until then to figure out a way to dodge her affections without blurting out that the only person he has any interest in kissing is Dan. 

He's fine – objectively, it shouldn't be that hard. He's fine. The word fine doesn't even sound like a word anymore, that's how _fine_ he is.

He's not. He shoves a pillow in his face and tries not to scream because he's pretty sure screaming would cause Martyn to immediately teleport to his bedroom to murder him or maybe just tell him to shut the fuck up. Either/or, really. 

Phil sighs, glances at the clock – he's fucked. That's the only way of putting it now, as it's nearing 2 a.m on a school night and he's still awake contemplating all the ways Dan would probably help Martyn hide his body right now. This whole thing—he had said yes, and Dan had watched him from the door, the twist to his mouth so evident that Phil had wanted to grab his words midair and shove them back in his mouth as soon as he'd spoken. He couldn't, and so he didn't, and Dan's smile hadn't reached his eyes when he told Phil it was fine. _Fine_. No dimples in sight, his shoulders hunched, something distant darkening his eyes. Fine. 

Not fine at all, an absolute shitstorm of a day in which all Phil wanted was to apologize, and he could pretend he didn't know what he would have apologized _for_ , but it's useless. He knows. Dan knows, too, more likely than not, has touched the tips of his fingers to Phil's waist too many times through the many years they've shared Phil's bed, has dragged his feet up and down Phil's ankles at every chance, stealing glances when they thought the other wasn't looking as they traded milkshakes back and forth with the excuse of enjoying more than one flavor every time they've gone out to eat. 

It's a whole thing, one that Phil doesn't often feel the need to think about too critically, but today's marked a dent in the surety of Dan's presence in his life, and he can't have that. He's not _going_ to have that, so he needs to figure out how to tell Emma he's not going out with her. 

He looks at the clock, stares at the 2 a.m. mark and tries to close his eyes. It doesn't work – sleep won't come, which explains why he's still lying wide-eyed and five feet deep into his regret spiral by the time Dan's falling through Phil's open window and yelping as he dodges something in the dark. 

He's moonlit, but there's nothing about him that Phil wouldn't recognize. He stares, 

“Dan?” he says, and Dan sighs. He's wearing pajamas, Phil notices, as he comes closer, and his hair is sticking up in all possible directions. 

“Shove over,” Dan tells him, is kicking off his shoes and walking forward to grab the edge of Phil's duvet and give it a little shake. 

Phil makes space for him on the bed, and Dan slides under the covers, sit up against the headboard with his arms crossed on his chest. There's silence, and Phil glances up at him, at the weird way he's got his nose scrunched. 

“What are you–” Phil starts, at the same time Dan does,

“You can't go–” they both pause, and Dan huffs. “Shut up for a second,” Dan tells him so Phil does. 

“You can't go out with Emma,” Dan tells him. Phil thinks he should know better than to say that Dan sounds desperate, but maybe knowing better means Dan sounds exactly that. 

Phil turns his whole body to face Dan, “No?”

“Please don't,” Dan asks. He looks back at Phil, meets his eyes for long enough that Phil's stomach starts feeling funny. He sighs, “do you want to?”

“Go out with her?” Phil questions, and Dan nods. “You know I don't,” he tells Dan, then, gets to watch as the tension leaves Dan's body. He uncrosses his arms, slides down so he's lying next to Phil. 

“I do,” he agrees, “but I thought. I don't know, I guess I thought maybe I’d read things wrong.”

Phil mulls over that for a second, “have you ever? With me?” 

A small smile starts to pull at Dan's lips, “First time for everything,” 

Phil frowns, “Not with me.” 

Dan pulls the covers up to his chin, reaches for Phil's hand, threads his fingers through his. He raises his eyebrows, “I mean,” Dan starts, “hopefully we'll have a few firsts.” 

It takes less than a second for that to sink in, and Phil's body grows impossibly warm when it does. He shoves Dan, a weird breathless giggle leaving his lips. Dan smirks at him, and Phil moves closer, plasters himself to Dan's side, “I hope so,”

Dan turns his head, presses his lips to Phil's forehead, “Me too.”

“Dumb question,” Phil announces, and Dan breathes him in, “You're staying over?” 

“Mmm,” Dan mumbles, then, “Obviously.” 

“My mom will make you pancakes,” Phil tells him, and Dan shifts so he's facing Phil, pushes one of his legs between Phil's so they're all tangled together. 

Dan wrinkles his nose, “Using me for pancakes, are you?” 

“Reckon I have to use you for _something_ ,” Phil says, and Dan pokes him on the side. Phil snorts. 

“We should go to sleep,” Dan tells him, pushes his nose against the side of Phil's face. “You're taking me out tomorrow,”

“Am I?” Phil asks, and he knows Dan can feel the way he's smiling. 

“You are,” Dan agrees, “Milkshakes, we'll split the bill and play footsie under the table,”

“We do that anyway,” Phil argues. 

Dan squeezes his waist, moves even closer, “And you were going out with Emma,”

“I'd rather go with you,” Phil says, though he knows Dan knows, “I'd always rather go with you, anywhere.” 

Dan smiles, lowers his head to press a small kiss to Phil's jaw, “I know,” then, “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> title is a line from the song _all through the night_ , the _sleeping at last_ version – which is the _best_ and deserves all the love and respect! thanks!


End file.
